


The Tyrant In The Kitchen

by Entropyrose



Series: Season of the Devil [1]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Original Character Death(s), Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The CDC is calling it "The Affect"---a DNA-altering drug that has been unleashed in urban areas, and Hell's Kitchen is no exception. Four weeks after being injected with a serum carrying The Affect, Matt Murdock is dragged to an Omegas Anonymous group meeting, to try and come to terms with what is happening to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. {Matt}

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonspell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/gifts).



> *The Affect= the name given to the DNA restructuring that causes the Alpha/Beta/Omega trope.  
> *The Affected= Someone with A/B/O trope

Matt Murdock couldn't even believe he had been dragged here. By his supposed best friend, no less. The low murmurs and hum of pleasant conversation reveberated off the walls and told him that this was some type of gymnasium, with a slight bounce in the floor and the rattle of cheap metal seats.

He tapped one with the end of his cane, and the empty "ting" told him this seat was vacant. He sat.

"Don't be nervous," Foggy said, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. Matt wasn't sure which of the two of them he was talking to. This was sure to be a conversation unlike anything either of them had participated in.

Someone brushed up against his knee, sidling to the chair beside him. "'Scuse me, " said a soft, male voice. "First time here?"

Matt paused before giving the guy a tight-lipped smile. "Uhm, yeah."

"Ah. I've been going to these meetings for the past four months now. Very informative. The leader's name is Mike. He's a very nice guy. You'll like him. My name's Chase, by the way."

"He's offering you his hand," Foggy muttered into Matt's right ear.

Matt stuck his hand out, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against the outstretched hand.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," came the apology that Matt was all-too-familiar with. His hand was grasped and firmly shook, overly-apologetically friendly. "I should have known by the uh--"

"Cane?" Matt offered.

"I was going to say glasses but yeah."

Matt shrugged. "I'm used to it." My name is Matt. This is my assistan---er, my friend--- Foggy."

He could hear the two shake hands.

"Yeah, it's our first time. Well, his first time really. I'm just here for support. I mean, I'm not one of you. I'm not a person that has a....I mean, to say I'm not like an---- a...."

"An Omega?"

"Well, yeah. Uhm. Nothing like that actually. I'm just normal. Sorry, didn't mean it like that...I just meant..."

Chase gave a soft laugh. "That's okay. It' nice to meet both of you."

"So, there's twelve here?" Matt asked.

Chase looked stunned. "Uhm, yeah. About that many. How did you know?"

Matt shrugged. "It's a gift."

"Guess so." Matt could feel Chase facing forward now, heard the shuffling of papers being dispersed.

"Good afternoon, everyone," a new voice announced. This one was lower-pitched, but just as friendly. "Please take a Welcome packet if you haven't been here before. It has a sign-up sheet for you to fill out at the top, and underneath you'll find an Info sheet with some very useful information on it. If any of you brought partners here today, we ask that they wait outside while the meeting is in session. This is now strictly an Omegas-only zone."

A few people shuffled out of the room.

"Do you think he'd mind? If I stay?" Foggy whispered to thier new acquaintance.

"Well, you're kind of like, Matt's seeing eye-guy, right?"

Foggy paused. "Something like that, yeah."

"Besides, you already said you're not Affected, so I'm sure it's fine."

"Oh, okay cool." Foggy relaxed back into the chair.

Matt growled a little. "This is ridiculous."

"Excuse me, what was that?" The group leader---this must be Mike---said. Immediately, a dozen sets of eyes were pointed directly at him.  
A few murmurs were produced. Matt could feel his face flush. He waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing. Uh. Sorry."

"No, no. Please, continue. This is a safe-zone; all opinions are welcomed. What is so "ridiculous" about this?"

Matt could feel his heart racing. He wanted to disappear right there, in his chair.

"It's his first time," Foggy piped up, his brand of 'help' only making Matt feel more and more helpless.

"What is your name, you in the glasses?"

Somewhere, in the well of his stomach, Matt found the courage to break out of embarassment and stood up. "My name is Matt. Matt Murdock."

"And your friend here, who is clearly not Affected, what's his name?"

Matt ignored the urge to ask the speaker how he possibly knew that, and said, "This is my assistant. Foggy."

"Ah. Welcome to you both. Well, Mr. Matt Murdock, I will not force you to extrapolate on your comment since you are clearly very new to this, but I would ask that you keep an open mind through the meeting, and of course ask any questions by rasing your hand."

Matt nodded with a forced smile, and sat down.

"See?" His new friend Chase whispered in his ear. "Pretty nice, huh?"

Matt was pretty sure he wanted to sink into a puddle right there and disappear.

* * * * *

Three weeks earlier...

Badguys with guns and knives are nothing new, but what Matt was not counting on was a badguy with a needle. It easily pierced through the fabric of his suit and ran right up into his neck. Matt barely noticed the slight stinging sensation. Assumed it must have been a tranquilizer, but most of his enemies were out-for-the-count, and those that weren't, were well on thier way. He grabbed the slender vial and threw it down, planting a firm roundhouse on the face of the guy that jabbed him. He put two more in a headlock and choked them unconscious, then scaled the tall building above and found a quiet, dark alcove to pass out in.

In the darkness and the quiet, he waited. His heart and head were pounding out incoherent rythms so loudly it drowned out all other sound. But unconciousness never came. Instead, as Matt was frozen in thought, came the sound of heavy-bottomed boots and the familiar clinking of several belts of ammo.

"You okay?" Punisher found him easily, always did.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I think so." Punisher grasped his hand, and it wasn't until that moment that Matt realized he was still covering his neck.

"Pretty good-size tear," he muttered, inspecting the wound. He lifted up the neck of Matt's mask and strained to get a better look. Instinctively, Matt grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

Punisher froze. "Don't worry," he muttered. "I won't."

Matt relaxed and allowed the wound to be inspected. Frank Castle's hands were massive, and his touch was gentle, despite his wide, calloused fingers. Almost soothing. Castle ran his thumb over the slightly-bloody, war-torn spot.

"You're not going to like this," Castle muttered, and Matt heard the flick of a knife opening.

Castle overpowered him as soon as Matt arched his back and strained to get away. Matt's fist connected with Castle's jaw, but only breifly, as Castle's blocking arm swung Matt back onto the cold concrete. Castle opened the cut as expertly as a surgeon, his blade easily slicing down the exact middle, blood pouring out in one perfect river. Matt filled his lungs sharply, but Castle muffled his scream with a gloved wrist. Matt could barely breathe as the seething sting became a burn. Castle's head was covering the wound now, Matt whimpered as he realized what was coming next.

Castle drew the blood into his mouth... Matt's blood was sweet, with a typical copper aftertase. He sucked mercilessly, drawing as much blood and--whatever this was---into his mouth and spitting it on the pavement. Matt kicked his legs helplessly as his silent sobs wracked his body.

"It's not that bad," Castle muttered between mouthfulls. "We have to get this shit out."

When Matt's struggles became wriggles and his breathing labored, Castle spat out the last batch, tore a sleeve off, and pressed it to the wound. "We'll get you to the hospital," he said, compressing the wound and using the high neck of Matt's suit to hold the cloth in place. "They can detox you the rest of the way."

"No," Matt managed. "No hospitals."

Frank sighed, looking over his shoulder and the writhing man, clad in red. "We don't know what that shit was."

"Doesn't matter," Matt groaned, hobbling to his feet. "Why the fuck did you do that..." It wasn't really a question, which was good, because Castle wasn't going to answer anyway."It's probably out of my system...Might've been a tranq that didn't take."

Castle turned and grabbed Matt's bicep. "Are we doing this the hard way?"

Matt shook his head in dismay. "Why do you care?" Castle pulled and Matt punched back. "I said no hospitals!"

"Fine." Castle walked to the ledge, staring down at the empty vial resting on the sidewalk below. "I have a buddy. I'll see if he can analyze it."

"That'd be great." Matt sighed, glad that Castle found an outlet to appease him. This guy was impossible to shake and even harder to redirect.

Matt limped back to his apartment and fell into a hard sleep as soon as he hit the bed.

* * * * *

Back in the meeting...

"The first signs of being Affected are usually pretty mild---a slight headache, some abdominal discomfort, hightened sense of smell..." Mike the Leader rattled off a few informative pieces, staring at an old blackboard on the guymnasium wall. "The time it takes to develop Fully Affected symptoms can vary....usually from one week to a month, maybe even two. The level of exposure to the Affect has alot to do with it."

"How long has it been for you?" New Friend Chase asked.

"Uhmm...about a month." Matt replied.

"...But the end result is the same. Everyone who has been exposed to the Affect with eventually become 100% Affected."

"Is it contagious?," someone asked. "I mean, can I give this to my kids or anyone?"

The leader let out a disheartened sigh. "Well, we know it is contagious, but we are not sure as to what level."

"My wife got it from a co-worker," someone else spoke up.

"I don't even know how I came into contact with it!" Yet another person said. The murmur of the room erupted into a sea of panicked voices, everyone trying to talk over everyone else.

"Hold up!" Mike The Leader shouted. The room quieted. "I need to remind you, yes, we are dealing with a pandemic. But this is not a disease----it is an alteration of our DNA.

Much like puberty, it is a change in our bodies, but it's nothing to be worried about. We can---and will---control this. The CDC is working on finding the source of the outbreak and the means of contagion, but this is....Look. For those of us who already have it, there is little chance of changing things back to the way they were. The best thing we can do....is cope."

Matt swallowed, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He suddenly became aware of his shaking fingers. He shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the screaming going on inside his head.

"Now, if we take a look at page 14,..." The speaker continued.

Matt was used to feeling isolated from a society that he could not see, but now even his body was an unknown entity. It was all brand-new and terrifying. He had flashes of the car accident as a kid, the chemicals splashing into his eyes, the burning sensation that seemed to begin in the front of his brain and spread inward and around...And now. Now he couldn't even follow along. He could not see the diagrams they were pointing to, could not follow the numbers on the page, everything felt the same, one page just as the next. Some pages have glossy parts when the pictures or photos are illustrated, but not now. Not here.

"You okay?," Chase asked. Matt jumped.

"What."

"You're shaking."

Matt collected himself and nodded sharply. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"...If someone has come into contact with your blood, or bodily fluids...."

That part of Mike The Leader's line veered into Matt's consciousness and hit him straight on like a mac truck. "Oh god."

"What?" Foggy muttered.

Matt's voice was a whisper. He stood up suddenly, causing the whole room to fall silent. "I have to make a phone call."

"Wait...what?!" Foggy followed, bewildered, as Matt hurried towards the exit. The heavy gymnasium door slammed shut as they disappeared into the rainy afternoon.

{End Chapter One}


	2. {Castle}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt holes himself up in his apartment and sends Foggy to give Frank Castle his number. He needs to find out if Frank might be Affected, too. Frank makes a shocking discovery in his shower. Meanwhile, Matt suffers through his first heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heat: the part of the Omega breeding cycle in which they feel the need to breed. Omegas give off scent to "advertise" to available Alphas that they are ready to mate.

 

The Tyrant In The Kitchen

Chapter Two

{Castle}

He stared down into his coffee, knuckles swollen and bloody, just like the day before. And the day before that. He lifted his head, watched the rain patter down the cafe window, and took another sip.

The calm before the storm.

The waitress, plump and red-headed, approached him, and Frank absentmindedly tapped his coffee cup and she filled it to the brim. "Sure I can't get you eggs or nothin, sweetie?"

Frank glanced up at her, his eyes as black as his sweatshirt. "Not today."

"How 'bout an eyepatch?" she nudged his shoulder with her hip.

"Ha-ha, Lydia." Castle touched the purple bruise circling his left eye. Four days later and it still smarted.

"Hey, you been coming here for nearly a year now. I've designated the right to pick on you."

That was the problem with not having an alias. Everyone knew who he was. What he was. Nearly a year ago Frank blew the head off some guy who pointed a gun at the little read-headed waitress in the run-down cafe. Ever since then, he had been her knight in body armor.

She sauntered off, and Frank smiled down at the black and white pit bull hunched under the booth. "No worries, Abby." He gave the dog a fond pat on the head and filled a plastic bowl with more water from the table. She lapped it up happily and gave him a Bully's signature toothy smile. "You're the only woman for me."

The entrance bell chimed and Frank glanced up from under the brim of his baseball cap. An awkward-looking, short man with straggling blonde hair shuffled his way to the back of the cafe and stuck his hand out. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Castle. "

"It's Frank." He let Foggy's hand drift awkwardly in limbo until it retreated back inside the lawyer's long trench coat.

Unphased and now used to Frank's antisocial behaviors, Foggy slid into the booth across from him. His foot nudged the sleepy pit bull, who have a half-hearted "wuff" before settling back down under her master's feet. "Oh, hi there doggie. Uh...a new friend?"

"Abby," Frank corrected.

"Ah I see. Well, I won't waste your time Mr. Cast.....er...Frank. We have a mutual friend. And he wanted me to come here today, to give you.--"

"Do we?"

"Uhm, yeah. My partner, Matt Murdock."

  
Frank nodded. "Daredevil."

"Ohhhh yeah....you already know that part, huh?"

Frank took a long gulp of coffee and stared out the window. "He puts on a skin-tight leather piece and hides half his face under a mask formed to his exact facial contours. Real question is, why so many other people don't...'know that part'...already."

"Well, most people don't have recon and military training in facial recognition and GPS tracking, among other things. Not to mention the killing-people-training part...."

"Careful," Frank growled.

"Uhm. yes. sorry. Anyway, Matt wanted you to have his number." Foggy slid a business card across to Frank. On it was scrawled a 10-digit number. "It is really important. It's about what happened at the Docks, a few weeks ago? He thought...if you saw him....Well, he thought it might come easier if I told you about his identity, first."

Frank was once again buried in his coffee cup. "Don't have a phone."

"Oh! We've got a phone right here," Lydia the Waitress helped, peeking her head over the counter at the two. Frank pursed his lips and waved her away. "Okay..." Lydia flashed him a pout and then disappeared to the other side of the cafe.

Foggy grimaced. "How much of that did she hear?"

Frank shrugged. "Your problem." From deep inside Frank's pocket, an electronic beeping rang.

Foggy stared. "Really?"

Frank's expression was stoic as he flipped his phone open---an older-version Nokia, maybe 2009?---and stared at the message before snapping it shut. He sighed and swiped the card off the table and slid it into the phone. "Fine."

"This is really important," Foggy reiterated, "Matt needs to talk to you."

"I'll swing by."

"At the apartment? Or the office?" .....silence....."Okay. I'll tell him."

Foggy sprang up and turned back to the sulking brute. "Uhm, the apartment doesn't allow dogs, just so you know."

Frank's black eyes flashed.

"Buuutttt ----I'm sure they'll make an exception."

With that, the funny little blond man left and Frank's attention switched back to the window, watching the people walk past with rain bouncing off thier black umbrellas. Frank patted Abby's wide, soft head and played with a floppy ear. "Maybe in a few days, baby girl."

* * * * *

{Matt}

"He can't just waltz in here!" Matt exploded, punching a couch pillow for effect. "At least....not for a few days!"

Foggy frowned. "Don't worry about it, then. I gave him your number, I mean...he should call. Or something. If he even does that! He is not exactly the most reliable person we know."

"You don't get it." Matt paced. "It's....it's getting worse."

"What is?"

"The....the whatever they call it."

"The heat?"

"Agggghhhhh!!!" Matt was back to assaulting the pillow.

"But what does that have to do with Castle?"

"Don't you get it? He could be Affected too! He drank my blood, Foggy. My fucking blood."

"Wow. That's....hardcore." Foggy perched himself on the barstool by the kitchen and settled in with a frozen latte.

"And there is a very good chance that he has it, too."

"Oh god, you mean you're both going to be going stark-raving-bonkers-horny?"

"NOT. HELPING."

It was too late---Foggy was lost in his own narrative. "Oh God, what will that do to Hell's Kitchen? A sex-mad Punisher? Will he, like, hump the badguys before killing them?"  
Matt froze, incensed.

"Right. Probably after killing them. Oh God! And if you're an Omega? Can you imagine? You guys can get pregnant, right? Oh, god! A pregnant Daredevil let loose on Hell's Kitchen?"

"FOGGY!"

Foggy surrendered, frozen latte held high. "Sorry, sorry."

Matt collapsed on the couch, covering his eyes with an elbow and planting his long, jean-clad legs on the coffee table.

"When are you coming back to work?"

"When I can get this all figured out." Matt stared upwards, using his mind's eye to imagine staring up at the ceiling, bland and white. "If Castle has it, I have to tell him."

Foggy shook his head while sipping his latte. "I don't think he does, boss."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, this heat-thingy as you guys----er, the Omegas----call it? Yeah, Frank doesn't have it. If he does, then he is hiding it really well."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, if I am speaking freely here, I'd say it's because he looks and acts exactly like his same Anti-social, broody, ass-kicking self. He even has this pit bull now, that he's acting like a total mother to...."

"A dog? Acting like a Mother? Oh god----" Matt writhed.

"No, no! I mean he is an animal-lover, you know? You've got to trust me on this one. He is being just normal, shitty Frank!"

"Maybe he's not an Omega," Matt murmured. "If he is Affected, and he is not showing signs of heat....then..."

Foggy threw up his hands. "Okay, now you are talking over my head, man." He left the bar-stool and grabbed his trench coat. "I'll bring your glass back, dude. I am finishing my drink at the office. You just...do whatever you gotta do."

The door shut behind him and Foggy's footsteps disappeared down the hall. Matt shamelessly formed himself into a ball and hugged the battered cushion tight.

If not an Omega, he knew what Frank -might- be. He dare not even think the word. Because if it was, then...things were about to get a whole hell of alot more complicated. Through the pounding headache and the intense need constantly throbbing between his legs, Matt tried to focus on who might've done this to him. Who would want to Affect Daredevil? And why? To slow him down? Distract him? And was there really, truly, no possibility of a cure?

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, the lights went dim and his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * * * *

{Castle}

He stared down at his throbbing erection. What the hell was happening to him. Frank couldn't seem to make it through a four-hour window without getting himself off. He felt dirty, like some kind of pervert. There it was, hard and ready and sure as hell not going away any time soon.

He stepped in the shower and turn the hose on hot. In the Marines, he had learned the real trick--cold showers are a total waste. Turn that water up and burn the fuck out of your dick, and /then/ try to getting off. Not going to happen. Too much pain---the skin swollen and red---your body turns tail and snaps into Recovery and Healing overload.  
He clamped down on his lip to keep from arching away from the intense burning, shut his eyes so tightly that tears couldn't escape.

But that didn't stop the scent---nothing stopped the constant smells and senses that now bombarded his brain. He was almost like a bloodhound. Every now and then he would pass someone---some random someone---who just smelled like heaven itself. It wasn't like a perfume smell, that invaded his nostrils and wrestled with them, more like....a scent that began with a feeling; like running his hands through flowers, or dipping his tongue into some sweet spice. This kind of scent involved every corner of his thought processes. He could pinpoint specific scents---coriander, lilacs, bright lemon--and it all made him want to fuck. Not just something, or anything---everything. Every damn thing turned him on. Made him feel like he was 10 again and discovering it for the first time.

"Agh---" He stepped back from the searing heat and slammed the water off. This wasn't working anymore. His dick had somehow gotten larger, it seemed, the head was bulbous, the veins were snaking out, even the curve of it was deeper and longer. Even the pain seemed to produce pleasure. He planted one hand on the shower wall and ran another down his throbbing shaft and shivered.

This was a mission, plain and simple. Get off and get on with life already. He rubbed mercilessly, groaning as he grew even larger, paying special attention to the head of his cock, running his thumb over it. He closed his eyes and focused on those smells--coriander, lilacs, bright lemon--he could feel himself reaching a climax, the semen building up and readying for release...he choked down a sob of pleasure as it came, but only one small strand of cum spurted out. It felt as if something was plugging it up, keeping it in. "...the fuck?" He looked down at his aching, sore dick. Just past the hilt, a large bulb appeared on either side. "....THE FUCK?" He catapulted backwards in his shock, and slipped on the slick surface of the shower floor. He came down like a bowling ball, feet flying up into the air, landing with a "CRACK" sound to the back of his head. He hissed at the pain and touched the base of his skull; warm blood oozed out.

He clammered to his feet, grabbing a towel to soak up the blood from his head, and headed into the kitchen, to get an ice pack for his aching, burnt, deformed dick.


	3. {Matt}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gets a visitor at his apartment...and it's not who you think ;)

{Matt} 

The knock at his door brought him back to existence, and he froze. Maybe if he kept his breath very still, very steady, it could just be like nobody was home. 

/Please God/

Another knock came, this one a bit more demanding, and Matt clutched his pillow. He didn't care how ridiculous it seemed. Frank could just take a flying fuck /off/.

"Matt?" The voice was not Frank's, but someone else's. Matt searched categorically through the rollodex in his mind and finally came up with a name. 

"Chase?" He asked, his voice small. 

"Hey." Chase's voice was muffled, but Matt could tell he was smiling. "Look, I hope you don't mind, but...Foggy got my number from the Omega Group List, and said you might need some..."

"Well, I don't. Fine. Nope. Good.Thank you." Matt was shouting at himself in his head. He was barely speaking coherently. 

There was a small pause. "Look, I understand what you are going through. It took me some time, too. I went through the Affect a few years ago. It wasn't easy, but, you can learn to cope. Look. I won't bother you. I just...want to make sure you're okay." 

Inside the apartment, shuffling could be heard, then footsteps, then the "snick" of a door being unlocked. Matt opened the doorway about four inches, and then stopped. He could sense--no, smell--someone else. 

Chase jammed his foot in the door before Matt could close it. "Wait! It's okay. It's just my partner." 

"Your "partner"?" Matt thought immediately how Chases' definition of the word "partner" must have been very different from his own.

"My mate," Chase hesitated. "His name is Drake." 

"Nice to meet you," the newest voice offered. It was a little gravely, though not unpleasant. The angle of the sound told Matt that he was a head or so taller than Chase, probably an occasional smoker, but his heartbeat was steady and Matt's shoulders dropped, realizing that these two were most likely not out to gang-rape him in his own home. As if they could even /try/. He slid the safety lock off its bar and headed to the kitchen. 

"Can I get you two something to drink?" Matt was wary of having an Alpha in his apartment--he had never met one, but the horror stories told in Omega Group were enough to make him steer clear. 

"That'd be great." Chase held up a plastic bag. "We brought takeout. Foggy told me you like Sushi?" 

Matt pulled his mouth into a smile, as much as he could muster, and opened the cabinet door to the bar. "What'll it be?"

After dinner, they relaxed on the sofa, all the while Matt keeping his distance from the strange Alpha. 

"I'm not going to bite," Drake said.

“Well, he might, but if he does it’ll be biting me,” Chase added, shooting a playful “behave-yourself” glare at him. “What he means is, not all Alphas have problems with control. It is harder, especially if they are not paired with a mate, if they are close to an Omega in heat.”

“But...can’t you get...” 

“Pregnant?”

“Yes, Omegas can. Only during their heat, though.”

“What about birth control?” 

“The FDA is too busy trying to find a cure for the Affect to focus on making contraceptives yet. Some people think it’s biological warfare, others think it’s just the next step in human evolution. Supressants can help ease the urge during your heat, and they also sort of mask the scent you’re giving off. But...” 

“But?”, Matt urged.

“But they only work for a time. And they’re not reliable.” 

“So have you two had any uh...little Chases yet?” 

His fellow Omega laughed softly. “No. There are ways around conception. So far, we've found condoms to be pretty useful, though cumbersome. And, oddly enough, the change decreases drastically when the Alpha eats enough grape leaves. Still haven't figured the science out on that one..." 

Matt could feel the heat rushing to his face. “I’m sorry, I just...” 

“It’s fine. I think I must have been one of the first to become...Affected. There was very little information available, and, honestly, I think we just got lucky...quite a few times.  
I guess all I am saying is, it gets better. Life almost returns to normal after your heat.” 

“How long...do one of these...’heat’s last?” 

Chase shrugged. “Depends. Usually three to four days.”

Matt looked miserable. “It’s been a week.” 

“Oh, yeah. Well, being that it is your first heat, and that you haven’t found uhm....” 

“Found what.” 

“Your mate.”

“It’s a little early to be telling him this part, don’t you think?”, Drake interjected.

“Well---” 

“No. Not it’s not too early. Sorry for cutting you off, but I have to know, Chase.” 

“Okay. Well, once you find your Alpha...that is, the person whom you uh...”Couple” with...”

Matt covered his mouth, feeling some of the sushi rise in his stomach. 

“...the duration of your heats will gradually lessen.” 

“I have to find a mate.” Matt stated, incredulous.

“It’s very dangerous for an Omega not to have a mate,” Chase warned. 

Matt scoffed. “Yeah. Okay.” 

“I’m not kidding. Look, we’re all men, here. We were all normal, once. We are used to getting shit done and kicking ass and taking names. But the Affect...it changes you. Omegas and Betas, we retain our strength usually. But Alphas...” 

“...Alphas get bigger. And stronger.” 

Matt straightened his back. “I can fend for myself, guys.” 

“Can you?” Chase asked.

“You’re going to need to keep your confidence in check,” added Drake.

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Chase leaned over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Look, even if you could surround yourself with a couple of good Alphas who you know well, who won't take advantage. We're not saying you have to find a mate tomorrow, or ever, if you don't want. But just know, things are going to be different regardless. I’m going to leave my number on the table for you. If you need anything, just call me. Okay?”

“’Kay.” 

He followed his guests to the door. Chase turned to him and added, “And you’re playing it smart. It’s best not to be out too much during your heat.”

“Don’t open the doors to strangers?,” Matt asked with a winning smile.

Chase laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

Matt shut the door after them, and after locking up, returned to the couch and opened the voice-read app on his phone. 

>To: Foggy  
>Sent From Matt’s iPhone  
SORRY I WAS A DICK. THANKS FOR TATTLING ON ME.

His phone >bingTo: Matt  
>Send From Foggy’s iPhone  
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

>To: Foggy  
>Sent From Matt’s iPhone  
THAT GUY CHASE AND HIS BOYFRIEND STOPPED BY  
THEY EVEN BROUGHT SUSHI

>To: Matt  
>Sent fom Foggy’s iPhone  
I DON’T HAVE HIS NUMBER THOUGH  
I DIDN'T CALL HIM

>To: Foggy  
>Sent from Matt’s iPhone  
WE HAVE A PROBLEM  
MY APARTMENT-NOW

 

{End of Chapter Three}


	4. {Matt}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is out for blood. Someone is going to tell him what is going on--and NOW.

 

 

Chapter 4

  
{Matt}

His pounding footsteps as he ran echoed off every building and obstacle. Matt Murdock was just a struggling lawyer who happened to be blind---but /Daredevil/ made sight seem like weakness, and easily sailed from rooftop to rooftop.

“Yeah, the meeting sizes are increasing. I heard the news on the radio this morning. Up to 13% of Hell’s Kitchen are now Affected? Crazy, man.”

Mike the Leader’s easily recognizable voice led Matt right to his apartment window. He wasted no time slipping inside, pinning the man in the dress shirt to his bedroom wall, and ripping the phone away. “He’ll have to call you back,” he growled out and slammed the phone down, promptly crushing it under his boot.

"Hey----!" Mike the Leader cried. Matt crushed his body against the struggling man. "Jesus---!" the voice squeaked.

“Who are you people?” Matt ground out, grasping ahold of Mike’s well-pressed collar and twisting. Mike’s hands went flapping above his head.

“Who---Who are /you/?” Mike managed. “What do you want?!”

“I want information. Who ARE you?”

“It’s not a virus, it’s-it’s”

"Ohhh, make me ask again. I'm begging you." Matt squeezd harder and positioned his boot over the man’s toes for effect.

“Okay, okay! Look, I don’t know everything about the outbreak….but…my name is Mike , and I am the head speaker of an Omegas Anonymous group called Stepping Forward. We just help people, I swear.”

Matt leaned in and angled his heel into his big toe, feeling the bones straining under the weight. “Who is Chase!?”

“Oaahhww......Chase... You mean, Chase Bourgeon? He’s-he’s been helping the Group. His was one of the first confirmed cases. He is some kind of scientist...DNA Analyst, I think he said?  For a laboratory where the Affect was first researched."

“GIVE ME A NAME!”

“Formyn! Formyn Labs!”

Matt released him with a shove and lurched towards the window.

“It isn’t his fault!”, Mike called after him. “It was a good thing! It started as a way to help people who couldn't conceive. Just---just don’t kill him or anything. Alright?”

Daredevil glanced back, sensing Mike’s earnesty, despite the pounding noise his heart was making. He nodded. Then disappeared over the fire escape and into the night.

* * * * *

“How did you know who I was?”

The room was pitch black, not a sliver of light piercing the darkness.

Chase jumped. “God….” He clutched his chest momentarily. “You scared the shit out of me. I gave you my number, Matt. Don’t you people ever just call?”

Daredevil approached slowly, silently. “Answer the question.”

“Look, it’s a long story, and frankly, you don’t have the time.”

Matt’s brow furled. “What?”

He could sense Chase’s uneasiness. His voice when he next spoke was barely a whisper. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I need answers!”

“And you will have them….please.” Chase’s hushed plea was tinged with despiration. “GO.”

Out of the very distant corner of Matt’s senses, a car approached. Eight blocks. Now seven. “They’re coming for you?,”Matt asked.

Chase shook his head and unfolded his hand to reveal a glowing phone, buzzing out a busy signal. “I’m so sorry.”

“Son of a BITCH.”

With no time to let the sickening feeling of betrayal sink in, Matt was off. He headed towards the sound of the vehicle—an armored truck, three---no, four men. Semi-automatics. Ballistic gear. What was with all the heavy artillery? He perched atop the State Theater Building and listened as the armored vehicle drove past, headed directly for Chase’s location. He felt a momentary twinge of worry for the guy, wondering what these people would do when they showed up and discovered Chase, alone, with no Daredevil.

He could take them.

He drew in a deep breath and prepared him jump, aiming for the roof of the truck.

A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, drawing him back. “Not yet,” the gruff voice said.

“—God!.” Matt yelped in shock. He had been so focused on the oncoming vehicle that Frank’s sounds registered as static. An electric energy bolted from the spot Frank touched. He curled his fingers into a tight fist. He had been trying to ward off this heat cycle all night. What the fucking. Hell.

Frank’s grip held, and he pulled his fellow vigilante off the ledge.

“What is it?” Matt barked. He felt Punisher’s eyes staring at him.

“Sorry,” Frank muttered half-heartedly, shrugging the strap of his AR-15 back into place.

A sudden feeling of wooziness and something like dread set in. Matt put a palm to his forehead and steadied his breathing. "Always showing up out of nowhere," he mumbled, trying to focus on the new sensations assaulting him, without the Punisher noticing.

"Look who's talking."

Matt slid down a wall and sat on the cold concrete. The wound in his neck, though mostly healed, had started throbbing. A spicy, smokey scent clung in the air and made everything seem heavy. He felt to dizzy to stand.

"Let's get you home," Frank muttered, offering him a hand.

Matt took it without much complaint, glancing back at the road. The armored car had long disappeared. "I have to go after them." 

"You can't. Not in this condition."

Fear spiked at the back of Matt's neck. Did Frank know? "There is a person back there, Frank. An innocent. You just going to let him get killed?"

"Nobody's innocent," Frank shot back. "And my Give-A-Fuck meter is shot. So come on." Frank began walking back the way he came, stopping only to briefly glance over his shoulder.

Frank was right. There was nothing Matt could do. He hated admitting it to himself. Someone out there wanted him this way--rendered fucking helpless. Who and why? Those questions remained. He followed after Castle as they made their way through the darkness. The musky, deep scent trailed behind Frank like a scarf. Man, it smelled delicious. Matt shook his head. Focus. /Focus/

 

>To: Matt  
>Sent from Foggy's iPhone  
>6:42pm  
HEY MAN. IM HERE. WHERE ARE YOU

 

>To: Matt  
>Sent from Foggy's iPhone  
>7:15  
YOUR SUIT'S NOT HERE EITHER  
PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE NOT OUT THERE DOING SOMETHING STUPID  
IM GOING HOME

 

>To: Matt  
>Sent from Foggy's iPhone  
> 9:42  
MATT CALL ME

 

>To: Matt  
>Sent from Foggy's iPhone  
>11:47  
MATT WHERE ARE YOU

 

 


	5. REVOLUTIONARY CURE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your interest in the Formyn Labratories latest DNA-Altering Technology! We know that you will be pleased with the results of PRO-CET (Xelphadyne 45.5ci). This revolutionary new injectable is safe, effective, and life-altering! Begin your family with Xelpadyne. Talk to your DNA Specialist today!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a fictional advertisement for the fictional DNA drug related to this work. Themes may be upsetting to people who cannot have children. Please understand I hold respect for everyone's right to choose when or if to have children, and to those that have had that choice taken away, please accept this as what it is--a work of fiction. It is not meant to be demeaning or upsetting to anyone. Thank you!

Formyn Labratories presents: 

PRO-CET!  
XELPHADYNE 45.5ci

DNA INJECTABLE

Are you unable to have children due to: 

 

-Age?  
-Past sterilization surgeries?   
-Accidents?   
-Family history?  
-Birth defects? 

 

If you have answered YES to any of these questions, then you are ready for: 

PRO-CET  
(Xelphadyne 45.5ci Injectible)

 

This harmless, single-administration injectable delivers the DNA-altering technology that will guarantee* you fertility.   
Ask your Doctor to speak with a DNA Specialist from Formyn Labratories! 

*Fertility is guaranteed, however conception is based upon availability of mate(s), and mate('s)health and reproductive status.   
*PRO-CET is not reversible.   
*PRO-CET cannot be used to treat, diagnose or detect any disease.  
*PRO-CET does not protect against STIs or sexually transmitted diseases  
*Formyn Labratories (TM) will not be held responsible for improper use of reproductive abilities after taking PRO-CET

Always speak with your Doctor before beginning any drug or DNA regimen.   
Ask your doctor if you are healthy enough for sex before use.

With PRO-CET, YOU CAN HAVE THE FAMILY YOU ALWAYS DREAMED OF!


	6. {Matt}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank follows Matt back to Matt's apartment. He needs to know he's okay. That he is going to be alright, and that he is not going to go looking for trouble. But Frank's being driven to the edge. Can he keep himself under control?

 

{Castle}

  
He made sure to stay several steps ahead of the intoxicating smell. If Matt was headed back home, Frank knew he had to tread carefully. The laceration on the back of his skull was a painful reminder that whatever he was dealing with was no fucking joke. And whatever Matt was giving off was driving Frank to the goddamn edge. He could feel the neglected ache growing with every step. And his apartment---Matt’s apartment---was marked with Matt’s scent. It may as well have been graffiti on the walls---it practically plastered every square inch with raw cinnamon, dripped with hints of pinot noir and permeated the air with something like those birch bark candies they sell at Christmas.

“I assume you have a  plan,”  Matt said abruptly, ducking into the open window and sliding inside. Frank followed suit, careful not to crush his AR-15 into the lintel.

“We can talk about it in the morning “  Frank offered, a little too abruptly. He was desperate. He had to leave, and soon. He made a fist at his side and squeezed down, refocusing on the unpleasant pressure; a futile attempt at driving away the lust that was gnawing away at his crotch.

Matt shook his head. “No, we need to figure  this out. Hell’s Kitchen is getting infected with this…this DNA restructuring drug. A disease that Formyn Labs likely unleashed onto an unwitting public.”

“You have  it.” Frank’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“Foggy told you?” Matt asked.

Frank paused. It would be a lot easier to take the avenue Matt had unknowingly provided than explaining to him that he could tell because Frank had it too and that Frank could tell because Matt smelled fuckably delicious. “Yeah”, he muttered.

“I think it happened that night I followed Krafoh down to the Docks.” Matt unzipped his mask and tossed it in a chair. His hair, slightly longer than Frank remembered it being, trailed down the nape of his neck in light brown tendrils. Frank felt the urge right then and there to run his calloused fingers through the soft waves and grab a fistful. Matt continued with his narration, unclipping the straps of his suit and peeling away the ribbed black and red leather.

Frank bit down, one tooth jamming down into a split in his lip. Matt continued undressing. Frank steadied himself against the kitchen counter and focused his eyes on the empty coffee pot.

Suddenly Matt let out a pained hiss. Frank's attention snapped-to and he bolted across the room, concern and dismay stabbing into his brain. Matt had a hand to his side, but he blew out a sharp breath and slowly recovered. "It's okay," Matt muttered, recovering quickly. "It's just this..."

/heat/, Frank wanted to offer, his pants getting tighter at the thought. Matt's voice faded away. His eyes, which never seemed to quite meet Frank's, glistened even in the darkness of the room. "I'm just tired is all."

Matt wore black boxer-briefs under the Daredevil suit. Frank couldn't quite pinpoint why, but he wasn't entirely surprised. A buttoned-up Catholic good-boy like Matt would need something that controlled and concealed. Frank's eyes drank in the sight of the two dimples resting just above the rounded curve of his Matt's ass. Suddenly, he wanted his thumbs pressed there.

"What're you doing?"

Frank looked down to see he was doing just that. The base of each thumb slipped over and nestled in to the grooves of his milky-white skin. Matt was smaller, too, than Frank thought he was. His fingers wrapped easily around the boney part of Matt's hips. Frank's thoughts were on the prize, now, and just like that, he pressed Matt against the wall of the apartment, legs spread, flattening him.

Matt's muscles quivered. The scent was now a need, a drive, and Frank was answering the call with little resistance from his thoughts. Matt's hands rose up the wall and pushed back, sharp shoulder-blades jabbing into Frank's chest. "Frank?" Matt's voice was dry and shaky.

"Stop," Castle groaned, coaxing Matt's arms back down to his sides and daring to bend his head into the curve of his neck. The area was purple and the long red mark was still visible, where Frank's mouth had been just weeks before----a thought flooded in before Frank could hold it back----/Where he had marked him/. 

Matt only offered an unintelligible murmur before his mouth parted, just enough for Frank to catch a glint of the pink tongue inside. Frank clamped a hand on Matt's shoulder and pulled, helping him arch back into his arms. Matt's back was sticky with a glimmer of sweat, and the coldness it produced permeated the place below Frank's belted black fatigues. He fit so perfectly; every satiny inch of this kid was opening like a goddamned flower. Frank felt himself reaching greedily for the waistband of Matt's shorts; bulky, battle-scarred fingers sliding down into the warm abyss between Matt's legs. 

Suddenly Matt was bucking back into Frank's lap and Frank grabbed on tight. From deep within Matt's throat, a pleasured cry was produced.  
Frank was going to be driven absolutely mad; his throbbing, trapped cock nudged itself wantingly between Matt's asscheeks.

"Wait," Matt urged, turning in Frank's arms. Was he going to tell him to stop? Frank couldn't be sure and couldn't risk it. He pinned Matt's hands to his sides while they panted into each other's mouths. God, Frank wanted that mouth. Matt shook his head and Frank could feel his wrists twisting in his grasp.

"Don't," Frank begged, capturing Matt's bottom lip, reveling in the taste. His cock was jabbing a fucking hole into his pants. /Come on/...a small tear lingered at the corner of one eye.

Matt shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "We can't."

Frank's breath left him. He searched Matt's dark, distant eyes. "What..."

"Just...stop!" Matt tore away from Frank's grip and puffed out his chest, as if to ward him off. "This isn't right. We can't do this."

Frank was incredulous. How could this not be right, when for the first time in a long time, every part of him was screaming 'FUCK YES'? He planted a booted foot on the rug, towards Matt.

Matt backed up one step. "Look, you're-you're right. This can wait till tomorrow."

"I have it, too." Frank blurted. "You know that." It was not a question.

Matt blinked and shrank back a little. "Yeah. I know."

"You gave it to me," Frank added. He was not pissed, not in the least. But if he could keep Matt talking, maybe distract him a little...

"I never asked you to slice open my neck and suck on it," Matt retorted, even though a hint of guilt lingered in his voice.

"I had to. I had to know you were going to be okay."

"--Followed me!" Matt barked suddenly, as if he had reached a comeback that would surely thwart any feelings of responsibility. " I mean, hell, Castle. You are everywhere."  
Frank paused, slowly reaching down the front of his pants, cupping himself. He took another few steps forward. "Let me give it to you," he cooed. "I'll go gentle. I know you feel it, just like I do."

"What the...no. No, Frank. Take a cold shower or something, alright?"

"That stopped working last week," Frank said. "Kept thinking about you the whole time."

Matt landed backwards on the couch, long legs splayed in both directions, and Frank put a knee between them, leaning over him, capturing him with his body. He pressed his lips solidly to Matt's, forcing Matt's mouth apart with his tongue in a gruff, determined kiss. Matt tried to mumble something, but his panting soon returned and Frank took the cue and dragged his tongue down Matt's exposed neck. "Going to make it good for you," he promised.

Matt stayed silent except for his rapid breathing. Frank kept the pressure on, leaning into him, giving Matt his everything, as he looped his thumbs into Matt's boxers and dragged them down and off. He bit down on Matt's neck, the side without the wound---the new, unexplored, unmarked side. He cupped Matt's balls, playing with them, trailing a finger up the length of his shaft. He watched Matt bite his lip and grinned.

/Gonna mark every inch of you/ .

Somehow, they made it to the bed. By the time they were there, all but Frank's black tank had been peeled away. He stripped it off and tossed it carelessly to the floor, tackling Matt into the soft covers. Matt's legs wrapped around his hips, responding now to every touch, every motion Frank made. Frank was completely drunk off the scent by now---it surrounded every inch of air, every fold in every sheet, saturated with a pulse, a smell, a /drive/ that Frank felt was calling his very name.

He let Matt come up for air before grasping both his knees and spreading his legs. Matt's dick was standing at attention, gently curved and already slick with precum. Frank marveled at the sight.

Matt's attention was on Frank's cock. He followed a line with his finger straight to the tip and gasped a little, withdrawing his hand. "God," he breathed.

"Shit, kid." Frank ground out. He was swollen, too. When he looked down, he could see a small lump forming at the base of his dick again. He needed to act quickly. He was pretty sure he had finally figured out its use.  
 

He couldn't pinpoint the exact time that he knew he loved Matt. A few months prior, he began trailing him. He'd always pack extra ammo in case Matt was in trouble. He'd follow him to work most days, before heading to the cafe to continue his morning coffee binge. Once he was sure he was safe, he'd head back home, pick up Abby, head to the cafe, and wait. It seemed these days, Frank didn't have to go looking for the bad guys. Matt brought them right to his friggin' doorstep---Daredevil was formidable, sure. But his propensity to let the scumbags live made him more of a target than anything. Punisher followed Daredevil's trail, and Frank followed Matt. That's how it began.

Frank shuddered at the sensation of the head of his cock pressing against Matt's entrance. He spat on his hand and rubbed at the hole as his nerve-endings twitched.

Matt was past words, now. Writhing and wriggling underneath Frank, one hand clutching the pillow beneath his head, the other balled into a fist around Frank's balls. Frank knew this must be his heat at work---probably something like what Frank had been experiencing for the last month---an intense need. A drive. A fucking drug.

"Shh, shh," Frank whispered into his ear, coaxing him. He wrapped an arm around Matt's shoulders, cradling him. "I'm going to make it better."

He groaned as he pushed his way in. Matt's head went back to the pillow as he choked down a cry. Frank pushed further, his shaft jutting into Matt's tight orifice. Matt's muscles instinctively clamped down around Frank's swollen cock and Frank shuddered. His hands left Matt's shoulders and moved to the bedpost, his body forming the perfect cage for Matt's erratic squirming. Each time Matt moved, he worked Frank's cock deeper inside of him, sucking him in. Frank gripped the headboard with a groan and shoved his way inside.

Matt's cries were so fucking sweet to hear. His legs came up to wrap around Frank's broad back as Frank worked a rhythm, moving his swollen shaft in and then out, rubbing Matt's willing ass raw."You come first," he moaned, his hand switching to Matt's cock, which was now crushed between their stomachs, giving it a tug.

  
Matt obeyed, wrapping a hand around himself. Frank drank in the sight of Matt's angelic face twisting in pleasure as he rubbed at his penis, slick with velvety pre-cum, twisted upward in need.

Frank focused on fucking him. Like his life fucking depended on it. He drove deeper and deeper--it felt like his cock would never end---until the bulb at the hilt of his shaft bucked against Matt's ass. Frank backed off. He didn't want it to hurt Matt. He would be patient, wait, enjoying the feel of being surrounded by Matt's warm, tight hole.  
Matt paused and managed a half-muttered, "What is that?"

Frank shook his head. "No, you worry about this, baby." Patting Matt's erection, giving his round, baby-soft balls a pinch. For aplomb, Frank pushed him down into the billowy bed covers and jack-hammered Matt's insides.

Matt's sexy sobs returned, and Frank helped him along, stroking away, intensifying the breeding urge that they were both feeling. Matt's body arched upward, and Frank knew it was time. He withdrew all but the head of his dick, a little pre-cum oozing out onto the sheets.

As Matt's eyes searched Frank's face for answers he couldn't see, Frank drew down on him like a blow from a mac truck--forcing his way into Matt's raw hole. Frank relished the long, teeth-clenched growl Matt produced, and felt Matt's hot seed splashing against his stomach. Matt was convulsing underneath of him. Wasting no more time, Frank grasped the headboard once again, and drew himself---all of himself--inside.

He felt Matt stretch to his very brim as the bulb of Frank's dick shoved inside. Matt choked down a sob and his entrance came down and around and squeezed the very hilt of Frank's rock-hard dick, which was at last buried completely inside of him.

Frank shuddered and came instantly, his calloused hands gripping the headboard, his back muscles knotting under Matt's slender fingers as he rode his orgasm, spilling out and into Matt, filling him with his cum. He shuddered and shoved a final time, releasing and spending every ounce he had to give. He wanted to make sure Matt got it all--Frank was all his--and he held nothing back.

He collapsed on top of Matt, his sore arms and hands wrapping around his panting new lover.

/Safe now./

Without any words exchanged, the two drifted off into sleep, Frank's long cock still embedded in Matt, Matt's entrance clamping down every so often, squeezing out every drop Frank could muster.

Frank had a dream that night. A bright-eyed, red-headded boy was playing in the back yard with a now much older Abby, who chewed on her favorite rawhide as the boy splashed happily in a plastic pool. The smoke and scent of various meats being grilled wafted through the air. Crickets chirping. A sprinkler sprinkling. Tall trees casting protective shade from the bright, happy sun.

A low, threatening rumble broke through the sky, and the little boy and the pit bull rushed inside an old farm house, the wooden screen-door frame bouncing with a resounding "clack".

The rain came and washed away the little plastic pool, the wood-smoke and the happy dream. Frank saw that the sky was black and gray. A storm was fast approaching.

* * * * *

{Matt}

His head was pounding. He felt for his glasses on the nightstand, and shoved them on one-handed. He felt behind him, as memories from last night flooded back. Frank's chest was wide and warm, small swirls of hair clinging to his damp chest, where Matt had been moments before.

He took a step and had to steady himself with the bedpost. "What the...?" There were fingernail-sized slices in the wood where it should have been smooth. Matt shook his head, straining to clear his thoughts.

For the first time in nearly a month, he almost felt normal. No waking up with a raging hard-on. No urge to find something to shove up his ass (now, /that/ had been a really odd feeling to get used to.)

He stumbled out to the kitchen and poured the water for his coffee. He frowned and paused, the familiar smell of freshly poured coffee already brewing. Had Castle already been up?

Matt shrugged, grabbed a cup for himself (adding the correct amount of sugar and creamer) and wandered into the living room, stepping over random scraps of clothing along the way.

In the middle of the room, on the rug, just as Matt reached for the remote, his toe nudged against something large and furry. "--Jesus!" He sprang back.

Abby produced a indifferent "muuuurff," Her head never leaving the floor.

Matt fumbled for his phone, after pausing to recover, and instructed Siri to play out the many texts that Foggy had sent.

 

>WHERE ARE YOU DUDE

 

>THIS IS GETTING REALLY OLD

 

>OK SEE YOU IN THE MORNING, HOPEFULLY.

 

 

Panic seizing him, Matt snapped off his phone and scrambled to the bedroom, diving into his closet for decent clothes.

"On the bed, here," Frank murmured from the comfort of the bed--Matt's bed. Matt paused, quizzical, then followed his fingers to the end of the covers, where he found carefully folded pants, a shirt, a tee-shirt, and underwear. Matt wasn't going to ask how Castle knew that this particular shirt was Matt's favorite, or dwell on the fact that Castle had just pawed through Matt's personal belongings.  
  
The doorbell chimed when Matt was one leg in to his trousers. "Er---coming!" He yelled. Then addressed the sleeping form on the bed. "Are you even dressed?"

"Nope," Frank murmured, burying his head in Matt's pillow. "I got Abby and our fresh coffee in the buff, of course."

Matt mentally kicked himself--of fucking course he was--and hobbled to the door, praying it was Foggy, and only Foggy, as he hiked up his pants and rubbed furiously at his face, trying to rid himself of the bright red heat he could feel was glowing there.

{End chapter six}

 

 


	7. {Matt}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt never was good at the morning-after charade.

{Matt}

  
Foggy stared, blinked a little. Then stared some more. "Wow," he finally breathed. 

Across from him, Matt pulled on his undershirt and combed his fingers through his disheveled hair. 

Frank reclined beside him, one leg tossed casually over the other, the bottom half of his face covered by a plain white coffee mug. 

"So, you mean...You guys..." Foggy's gaze switched to Matt, then Frank, then Matt again. He let out a slow sigh and slumped back into the chair. "wow." 

"----Look, it's not---"  "-- Oh, why dont you fuck off---" Matt and Frank's responses were simultaneous and collided into each other in mid-air. Both replies disintegrated into silence. 

Foggy's eyes once again lit up, the realization having hit him head-on like a freight train. Then sparks flew everywhere. "Oh. My. God. YOU DID. You guys did it, didn't you!?" 

Matt's expression looked not unlike that of a school-boy who had been caught smoking in the teacher's lounge. He scratched his neck and squirmed in his seat.

Frank leisurely sipped his coffee. 

"You did the Fuzzy Tango," Foggy continued. "You two were Playing Soldier! Scrubbing the Carpet! Hiding the Bishop! Churning the--"

"FOGGY!," barked Matt.  

"---Butter."

Frank's eyes rolled a look over at Matt, who was angrily buttoning his shirt. Abby whined in her place on the floor, rose slowly and went to rest her head on Frank's boot. 

Matt smoothed his hair away from his forehead, his head between his shoulders. "I can stop this," he murmured. He slapped his knees in aggravation and stood up. "I have to investigate. At this rate, the whole city will be Affected by the end of the year."

Frank's regularly furled frown deepened. He looked down and balled his fingers into a fist. "So you're gonna rush out there, balls-to-the-wall and do what? Bring down a bunch of well-meaning piss-ant scientists who were just trying to help people in the first place?" 

"We don't know that it originated with Formyn." Matt was pacing, now, at full 'I'm-formulating-a-plot' speed. He stopped abruptly and glanced down at Frank. "Did you ever get the results from the vial down at the Docks?"

Frank nodded. "Positive for the Affect." 

"Okay. 1: So we know someone deliberately injected me.  2: We know Frank probably got it by trying to suck it out of my system..." 

"You mean you guys necked?" Foggy squeaked. "Dude! When did I miss all this? Did you like, go see the Notebook or something?" 

Matt ignored him. "Other than that, we have no proof of any deliberate outbreak." 

Foggy snorted. "Yeah except that you two are going at it like a cop with a box of donuts..." A pillow sailed across the room and connected squarely with his face. "Agh---!"

"Drake could check the vial for fingerprints," Frank offered. 

"Naw, I already know it was one of Krafoh's men." Matt stopped to tap his nails on the marble countertop of the kitchen. "He wouldn't likely be involved in..." His voice trailed off as a sudden icy realization seized him by the back of his neck. "Wait. Who did you say?"

"Drake," Frank said. "I met him a few months ago outside City Hall. He was giving a speech on DNA Restructuring. Was working on finding the source of the Ieak. I figured he'd be the guy to go to." 

"You didn't think to mention this till /now/?!" Matt exploded. "Castle, that guy works for Formyn labs!"

"He practically /is/ formyn labs," Foggy muttered, searching the info on his phone. "Says here Drake Alegnin is one of the founders of DNA Restructuring. A freaking genious, too. And here's our little Chase---'Chase Algenin. Scientific Research Analyst and Bio-Engineer for Formyn Labratory Corp," he read. "Oh how cute. He's Mrs. Algenin." 

"So...." Frank worked on the thought halfway through another gulp of coffee. "Drake is our guy?" 

"No, I don't think so." Matt thumbed through a paper pad, feeling along the notes he had scrolled in thick, hard lines, so that he could re-read them with his fingers. "The timeline doesn't work. He couldn't have known my identity and sent his...boyfriend or whatever...in a four-week span. He would have had to have waited to get the DNA results from the vial that was injected into me before he could be sure."

"So...he's not our guy." Frank guessed.

"No," Matt pondered. "But he knows who /is/."   

* * * * * 

{Drake}

Chase rubbed his screen-tired eyes and helped himself to another glass of white wine. 

"You've been at that all day," came a deep voice behind him. Drake wrapped thick-muscled arms around him and pulled at the collar of the white lab coat. "It's time for a break." 

Chase moaned at the touch. "But, I'm almost finished." 

"And you can go back to being almost finished in the morning," Drake pushed, sliding the coat off and onto the floor. "I want you," he whispered into his ear, turning Chase and bending him over the large console occupying the desk. Error messages -blipped- and -bleeped-. 

Chase popped forward, springing off the keyboard with a school-girlish giggle. "You're ruining it," he chided playfully.

"Hmmmm, I'll ruin /you/," Drake moaned into Chase's mouth. Their lips touched, their arms wrapped around each other, embraced in a passionate kiss.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Chase said when they came up for air. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you." Drake's eyes glistened with remorse. His thumb caressed the large, swollen purple crescent under Chase's left eye. 

Chase shrugged. "They didn't get what they wanted. So I understand." 

"Still, they never should have touched you," Drake ground out. 

"Daredevil was part of the deal, though. But...Drake, I just couldn't. If only you met Matt sooner, you'd understand. He is such a nice guy. I am just glad they let me off with a warning." Chase reveled in the safe harbor of his lover's arms, as Drake lovingly smoothed his bangs back and planted a firm kiss on his forehead. 

Suddenly, his pager beeped. Drake sighed, reluctantly taking it out of his pocket to glance at the number.

"Is it him?," Chase asked. 

Drake's shoulders dropped. "Yeah. He's at the front gate. I'll meet him there. You stay put and don't leave sight of anyone," he ordered. Chase took his seat and returned to his work with a worried glance over his shoulder at Drake as he left. 

Some ways in the distance, it began to rain.

The solid steel, military-grade gate was hidden with row upon row of lavish ivy leaves---beauty concealing ruthlessness. Drake punched in some numbers on the key pad and nodded to the armed guard as the gate swung open with a "clang". 

The businessman was tall and towering. His associates were dressed in an equal amount of gray and black, and one strained to hold an umbrella over the giant's head. "Mr. Algenin."

Drake nodded, his face expressionless. "I have the formula ready." He waved a hand. "Come on in." The small following made their way down a well-lid corridor that looked not unlike a prison or large rat cage---behind ballistic glass, men and women in lab coats formulated, calculated and experimented. The whole facility smelled like a mixture of shellfish and turpentine, and left a bitter-metallic taste in the mouth.

They came to another room, another metal door. Drake paused and glanced at the men behind his client. "They stay out here," he ordered.

"All but Franklin, here." The businessman gestured to the tall man on his right. "He is my...personal doctor. He will need to know schematics." 

Drake nodded and punched in the last code, then stepped into the room. As the door closed, he mustered up the courage to confront him. "My husband suffered dearly at the hands of...'your men'...last night." 

The response was mock-sadness, seeping in sarcasm. "Oh. Did he? The room was dark. My men were well-armed. When they could not locate Daredevil, well. They had to make due." 

"'Make due'?", Drake growled. 

"Yes. You see, when I asked that you inform me of Daredevil's presence, the request was a merely a formality." 

Drake's eyes narrowed. 

The towering man took a step forward "What it meant, Mr. Algenin..." He cast a daunting shadow over the scowling man. "...is DO NOT FAIL ME." The shadow left as quickly as it had come, replaced by a metal briefcase, slid across the room at him. Drake flipped it open, and internally counted the green bills stacked neatly inside. "And now you show me yours," the tall man asked. 

Drake slowly produced a small plastic tub from his pocket, stamped with a "BIO" symbol on it. "I'll need to write you a script," he added, as the businessman's associate stretched an open hand towards the bottle. "It's /merely a formality/." 

A wide, awful grin crossed the businessman's face. "Why, I am shocked you don't already know." 

"You'll have to forgive me," Drake growled. "I don't usually deal under-the-table. With crooks. And criminals." He readied a pen and a doctor's Rx pad. 

"The name is Fisk.", Said the man. "Wilson Fisk."

 

{End Ch.8}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. {Castle}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Matt are on a mission.

  
{Castle}

The floorboards of the Army-issue Jeep may have been rusted through, and most if its windows missing or cracked, but it did the job and Frank needed a vehicle that could easily scale the hilly crest without much trouble. Matt was in the passenger side, one hand clutching the roll bar. 

“I’ve never rode into battle before,” Matt remarked with a slight grin. “It feels…bulky somehow.”

“This from the guy who doesn’t even bring a handgun to defend himself with.” 

“Never fear, Castle. Some of my best work is done with my bare hands,” Matt replied, his smile widening.

Frank was used to being a lone wolf. Having a “partner” complicated things. But this was Matt’s fight, and Frank wasn’t about to let him go alone. Matt seemed to “see” better than most without actual sight. What did Matt call it—sonar? But Frank didn’t buy it. He was going to be his eyes, and an extra pair of ass-kicking hands, and they were going to get this thing done. 

“Someone’s following us,” Matt said, straightening up and craning his head towards the back of the Jeep. Incredible. Even with the loud hum of the engine, Matt could still pinpoint the faintest sound. 

“How far behind?”

“A thousand, maybe twelve-hundred feet.”

Frank eyed the edge of the road as the brush thickened and the trees whipped past. At last he spotted a flattened patch of grass and veered off the gravel road, into the bushes.  
Branches and underbrush scraped against metal as Frank picked a spot to conceal the vehicle. He studied Matt’s face—the crease in his forehead visible even under the thick red mask, his closed eyes and crouched position. “Four hundred feet,” he counted down. “Three.” He slid out of the Jeep and braced himself against its side. 

The loud truck came rumbling up the path, continuing on past the parting in the trees where Frank and Matt had turned off. The rumbling faded and Matt blew out his breath.

“Same armored van that followed me to Chase’s apartment.”

Frank shrugged his M-16 over his shoulder and  punched the glove compartment open, revealing a handgun and two long bowie-knives. He packed them away in his ballistic vest. “We’re going on foot then. Let's beat them to the chase, if we can.”

Frank marveled at Matt’s stealth---his lean, muscled physique darting through the thick foliage like a thoroughbred barrel-racing horse, whipping past branch and bush as if the whole place was mapped out in his head. Maybe it was. Frank was nearly out-of-breath trying to keep up. When they got to the top of the hill, they approached a wall of thickly-grown ivy. Matt reached in, feeling along a fortress wall of brick and stone. His feet barely made a sound on the ground. 

His entire hand disappeared, then his arm. At last, his entire torso fit in. When Matt vanished completely through the thick growth, Frank clutched his semi-automatic, his finger hovering just over the trigger. A gloved hand appeared again, waving him through. Frank followed blindly, into the wall of weeds.

It was a long, well-lit tunnel of concrete on the other side. “A hidden supply line,” Frank murmured in amazement. 

The tunnel went on for nearly a mile, with no access doors or vents. It opened into a large stock-room. Frank jumped into the first vent he found and held it open for Daredevil to follow.  

“…brought the backup Fisk requested,” a voice became audible. Within a few yards of crawling through the inner guts of the Lab, Frank could see a large group of men gathered in the room below.

“You are not welcome here,” a familiar voice said. Drake came into view, then, his arms crossed over his chest, the lab coat barely hiding the bulge of muscles beneath. “This is a laboratory, not a hideout.”

“We’re here under Fisk’s orders,” the man barked.

In the vent system, Matt nudged Frank’s arm. “That’s Krafoh.” 

Frank nodded. 

Drake placed both hands against Krafoh’s shoulders and shoved.

“I want to talk to Fisk!”, Krafoh barked, standing his ground.

“Good Lord, all the /shouting/,” a voice boomed.

Matt let out a stifled gasp. Frank placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned inwards for a better glance at the towering tyrant. 

“I quite understand, Mr. Algenin,” Fisk continued. “And as soon as our business is done here, we will leave you to your work.” 

“Couldn’t happen soon enough,” Drake growled. His attention turned to the glowering man in the trench-coat. “I know it was you. You lay a hand on /my husband again/ and I swear…”

“Careful there, princess,” Krafoh mocked. “You may be boss of this little operation, but me and Mr. Fisk---“ Fisk cleared his throat, and Krafoh corrected his tone”—Mr. Fisk is Boss of Hell’s kitchen.” 

“Soon to be New York,” Fisk added. “All thanks to your help, Mr. Algenin.”

Drake yielded, tucking a clipboard tightly under his arm. “And when can I expect to gain control of /my/ operations?”

"Very soon, now." Fisk's cool blue eyes slid to meet Krafoh's and he smirked.

Krafoh produced a gun equipped with a silencer, and suddenly time slowed to a crawl before Frank. Daredevil must have heard the gun before Frank saw it, because he burst out of the air grate before Frank could hold him back. He watched as Matt sailed down on top of Krafoh. The gun discharged, and a splatter of blood hit the wall as it found its target.   
Drake's hands hovered just over the wound in his stomach, eyes wide and face white. His mouth gaped open as he looked down at his blood-soaked coat and scrubs. 

"Drake!?" Chase's voice pierced through the chaos. Had he been there the whole time? He ran towards his husband, who stumbled into his arms before dragging his quivering fingers down Chase's uniform before hitting the floor. 

"Ah at last, the notorious Daredevil!" Fisk announced, turning his back on the gasping man and his partner, his hands flying out from his sides in a grandiose gesture. "Savior of Hell's Kitchen."

Frank waited, hidden in the dark crevasse of the vent. He slowed his breath, even though his trigger finger was twitching violently. 

Matt's usually cool expression turned to one of murder itself. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Fisk raised a finger to his pursed lips. "It seems you waited a little too long to announce your presence. If you had but charged forward valiantly, perhaps using an explosive device on the main entrance, maybe you could have saved them."  

Matt's eyes narrowed. "You were never going to let them live, were you." 

Fisk let a low giggle escape. "Oh, but he catches on so quickly!" 

Frank flicked the safety off his semi-automatic and prepared to jump. 

Daredevil wasted no time lunging at the random henchmen gathered around. Watching him fight was like watching a painter develop his latest masterpiece---the first three or four were thrown down easily. Daredevil's movements were smooth and quick--and all of them, very deliberate. No energy wasted. The men drew in closer around Matt and he had to switch to wrestling moves. Frank launched himself off the edge of the opening and aimed directly beside Matt. He came down and his knee connected with the skull of one of the black-dressed men. He straightened his leg out for a full-on kick, and crushed him between his boot and the tile below. Capillaries and blood bursting like a ripe watermelon.  Instantly, Fisk's men took a step back from the notorious Punisher.

"Piece of shit," he ground out, pointing his rifle directly at the giant in the black suit and tie. 

"You're not going to do that," Fisk said. 

Frank squinted through the spray of blood on his face and his finger pulsated on the trigger. 

"Like I said," Kingpin bellowed, his massive arm reaching out and plucking Daredevil out of the pile of men like a rag-doll. He held him to his chest while Matt wriggled to get free. "You're not going to do that." 

Frank steadied his weapon. With only a quarter of Fisk's size being hidden up by Matt's, Frank was confident of several hits. But none of which would kill instantly. Fisk was capable of popping Matt like a zit. Even a headshot might produce a convulsion that would reduce Matt's insides to pulp. 

Fisk produced a long syringe from his waistcoat pocket. 

"A little late for that," Matt squeezed out, grasping onto Fisk's arm as if it were a log, keeping him afloat. "Krafoh's guy already took care of it." 

Fisk's grin only widened. "Yes, I know. You are an Omega. And judging from the smell..." Fisk's head closed in on Matt's face. He took a deep breath in and his eyes fluttered closed, exhaling an indulgent /aahhhhh/...." I'd say you have been for at least a month." 

Frank's hackles stood on end. /fuck/. He had been too distracted to notice the deep, husky scent protruding from the giant, but now that it was tagged in his mind, he couldn't stop smelling it. He felt an instinctual new hate for this man, one that ran right to the core of his being. /another Alpha was touching Matt/. Not just any Alpha; a bigger, more powerful Alpha.

"No, it's not what you think." Fisk removed the cap of the syringe between clenched teeth and tore at the zipper of Matt's mask as Matt's legs flailed wildly. 

Frank's heart froze in his chest. Was it the Affect? And if it was, what would giving more of it to Matt do? Would it kill him? And if it didn't----Frank swallowed but found his throat was a desert---would it change him back? It was an incredibly selfish thought, Frank knew. But without the Affect, would they have ever....?

"ENOUGH!!!" Frank's voice bellowed with a resonance even he didn't know he had. Fisk paused, mere centimeters away from administering whatever was in that vial, his eyebrows raised as if to say, 'well?'. 

Frank let the M-16 slip from his grasp. It clattered to the floor. 

Matt frantically shook his head, his mouth now completely enveloped in Kingpin's hold. 

"Good boy," Fisk rewarded. "Now the rest." 

Some of the henchmen came a few steps forward. 

Frank pulled his side-arms from each holster and ejected the cartridges. He unsnapped, unfastened, unzipped, and unsheathed until the weapons were all strewn about on the floor. 

"Pat him down." Fisk commanded. 

Frank's body was jammed repeatedly with hands that grasped, tore and pulled at his clothing. He held his arms out as they searched, his eyes piercing through Fisk's contented face. 

Fisk dropped Daredevil, his fingers easily wrapping around his neck to hold him in place.

One last suited man stood before Frank, inspecting Frank's pistol in his hand. "Very nice." He balled a wad of spit and projected it at Castle. It spattered down his right eye.

"Fucking piece of shit." 

Fisk went for the vial again, this time jabbing it instantly into Matt's neck and squeezing out the contents. 

Matt cried out, clutching his neck as he stumbled backward. 

Frank got one foot underneath of him and started for Fisk. 

That's when the butt of the pistol came down on his head. In the midst of Matt's shouting and the clammer of boots, the blackness sank into Frank's vision.

"Nighty-night..."  the man in black sang.

Everything faded out. 

 * * * * * 

 

 

/Dad./

 

 

 

/Dad?/

It was the little boy again, staring down at him as the wind caressed his auburn hair and birds chirped in the soft shade of the afternoon. 

/You need to get up./

"I know..." Frank muttered.

In the distance, another voice called. This one was familiar. 

"...Matt...?" 

//Eric! Homework!//

The little boy stood to his feet.

/Daddy is going to get mad if you stay down there./

"I know...." Frank repeated. The shadow of the little boy disappeared and he listened to the sound of small tennis shoes running through the tall grass.

A soft flash of light drowned everything out.

//Castle//

Frank opened his eyes to the familiar sound. Matt seemed to hover above him, his ocean-dark eyes flickering, small flecks of red glinting in the sun. His lips fell apart and Frank took his face in both hands, his mouth meeting Matt's, reveling in the soft velvet of Matt's skin against Frank's split lip.  

Matt pulled away and socked him playfully in the cheek. //You'd better get up.//

Frank blinked.   
The vision faded away, but the peaceful bliss of the afternoon sun warmed every part of his being. He reached again for the warm, soft face, but it was gone. 

In the distance, an owl cooed lazily, lulling Frank back to sleep.

 

{End chapter 8}


	9. {Chase}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown

{Chase}

 

The sum of their lives was wrapped up tightly into one final loving glance. Tears flowed freely,  in defiance of the chaos around them. Drake's eyes slid closed, and his body went limp and heavy in Chase's arms.  
 

Chase looked up at the towering man holding Daredevil by the throat. Saw him stick the needle in, and watched as the man with the black ammo gear was knocked unconscious by one of the thugs that had come to roost. 

 

This place was built on a crazy dream, that one day, despite being the same sex, he and his husband might be able to have a child. But much like every other dream, evil came in and snuffed it out. Chase smoothed Drake's hair away from his lifeless face, holding back a sob. 

 

"Get up," Fisk ground out. "I am going to need your assistance with this." 

 

"Get out of here," Matt pled, frantically nodding towards the door. 

 

He dared a momentary look at Matt, then rose to his feet, and with shaking hands, discarded the blood-spattered lab coat. He stood in front of Fisk with a blank face.

 

"Let's get going, doc." One of the men shoved his shoulder in the direction of the lab. 

 

After a sad pause, he fell in line with the procession. It felt odd, walking through the empty hallway and its vacant rooms. He had often stayed late working on formulas or projects with his husband, but with Drake gone, it seemed very much as if the whole complex had lost its soul. He was glad that he had sent the Formyn employees home; Drake have felt that the brewing storm between Formyn and the Kingpin was about to erupt.   

 

The room Fisk chose was a classroom-sized testing lab. Gurneys lined the wall. There was a small shower area in the back corner where the linoleum floor turned to white tile, with a flimsy white curtain and metal balancing bars. One of the larger thugs who carried Frank Castle in threw his unconscious body down in this area, producing zip-ties from his pocket. 

 

"That will hold him for about three seconds," Fisk barked. 

 

"I'll get the chains from the van," The man named Krafoh offered, then darted off towards the direction of the entrance. 

 

Fisk flopped Daredevil down on one of the hospital beds as if he weighed five pounds. Matt struggled against his attacker, stretching his arms out and kicking at the man. 

 

"He will kill you if he gets free," Chase said blankly. 

 

"Then unless you want to end up like your dead husband," Fisk shot at him, "You'll help me restrain him." 

Chase fastened the restraints on the gurney to Matt's wrists then headed down towards his feet. "No," Fisk growled, clamping a hand around one of Matt's ankles. "Just get him ready." 

 

Chase swallowed hard. 

 

"Help me out," Matt growled, as soon as Fisk's footsteps trailed to the corner of the room. 

 

"I can't." Chase muttered. He reached up and dragged the zipper to Matt's mask down. Matt winced at the sudden flood of light that was pouring down on him from above him.

Chase only noticed at that moment that Matt wasn't quite meeting his gaze.

 

"Where is Frank?", Matt panicked. 

 

"He is here in the room with us." 

 

"I know that. But where?" Matt shook his head as if trying to clear it. 

 

"Back corner, left," Chase whispered. 

 

Matt's head lolled to the side. His breathing became shallow.

 

"It's the serum," Chase explained. "You'll be okay." 

 

"Your husb....Drake?" 

 

Chase paused, unable to answer that. He looked down at the helpless, brown haired vigilante. "It's the serum," he explained, smoothed Matt's hair back, as he had done for Drake. He clutched the zipper on the collar of Matt's suit. Matt kicked his hand away with incredible reach. "Stop fighting it," Chase pleaded. "You will only make it worse." Chase listened to the hitch in Matt's breathing and winced apologetically, knowing exactly what was coming. He unzipped the rest of the way, undressing him carefully, despite Matt's protest.

 

A sudden animalistic roar from the corner of the room snapped up their attention, and the henchmen scattered. "Get him UP," Fisk barked.

 

A woozy Frank was dragged to the center of the room on his knees, heavy chains trailing behind him, small spatters of blood falling from his mouth. "I'll fucking kill you, you fucking scum! You piece of shit!" Only half of Punisher's scampered threats were intelligible through his gutteral growling. Blood lined the edges of his mouth and trickled down his chin. 

 

"Welcome back, Mr. Castle," Fisk said, peeling off his heavy suit and coat, revealing massive muscled arms. His Rolex flashed in the bright light of the room as he meticulously rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "I am so honored to meet you again." 

 

"Your uh /partner/ here..." Fisk sauntered up to the gurney and Matt tore against the restraints, arching his body outward against the bed. "...he is quite a catch, isn't he?"  
Fisk ran the back of his hand down Matt's face. Matt shuddered.

 

"Well, I guess this is why we don't have wet dreams of our best friends, Frank. It can place them in very awkward positions." 

 

"Don't you fucking /touch/ him." Frank's eyes flashed red.

 

"Unfortunately," Fisk continued, ignoring him, "You and your little...Daredevil...have been causing me some unnecessary headaches." The giant produced something from his pocket, and threw it down in front of Frank. Photos scattered on the ground, names etched into each one. "Forrest, Betting, Smith, Romdak," Kingpin counted off. "All men under my command. All snuffed out by you and your 'brand of justice'." 

 

"Fucking thugs! Murders! Pieces of shit! Your damn right---I blew the heads of each and every one of those motherfuckers! But he never killed anyone!," Frank barked, cocking his head towards Matt. "Let him GO!"

 

Fisk nodded. "Oh, I intend to, Mr. Castle. I assure you. However, you and I need to come to a certain...arrangement." 

 

Frank glared. 

 

Fisk's attention shifted to the man on the bed. Matt's chest was rising up and down in a torrential wave. Matt groaned and bent his knees, attempting to conceal what was between them. "ah-ah-ah," Fisk cooed, resting his wide fingers on Matt's thigh, tugging at the material of the back boxer-shorts, the last remaining scrap of cloth covering him.  
Matt bit his bottom lip but arched into the touch. His hands balled into fists that tugged at the restraints.

 

"Have to hand it to you scientists," Fisk remarked. "You really discovered something amazing here." 

 

"What's he doing, boss?" One of the men asked. "Is he turned on or something?" 

 

"It's a heat serum," Chase droned, as if reading it straight from a text book. "Formulated to bring out an Omega's heat cycle. The recipient is thrown into heat regardless of the date of last naturally-occurring cycle, and remains there. Though conception is rarely achieved through this artificial method, it encourages..." His voice trailed off.

 

"Go on. Tell them." Fisk's smile was icy.

 

"...encourages total obedience in the Omega."

  
Frank let out another ear-rattling roar, whipping one of the chains forward and around one of the henchmen's neck, slamming him to the floor. The others lunged forward, and the one named Krafoh aimed a gun. 

 

Fisk held up a hand, and his men stopped. Frank, in the middle of his rage, saw Fisk's free hand travel to Matt's neck and squeeze. He froze, and was brought down instantaneously by a harsh tug on the thick metal chain. 

 

One of the men let out a ridiculous giggle. "Hey, boss, check this out." He jabbed a booted toe in between Frank's thighs, nudging the swollen bulge. "He's got a fucking boner!"

 

Frank flashed a death-stare up at him and the guy backed off.

 

Fisk's hand relaxed, and Matt sucked a swift rush of air into his lungs, gasping. 

 

"Okay," Frank muttered. 

 

"What was that?"

 

"I said OKAY," He gruffed. "What do you want?" 

 

Fisk smiled mock-politely. "I want your talent." 

 

Frank blinked. 

 

"You are incredibly good at what you do. The best, even." 

 

"You are scum!," Matt groaned, catching his breath. 

 

The back of Fisk's hand connected with Matt's face, sending his head into the bars of the gurney. "Not now, Cupcake. The adults are speaking."

 

"That's fine," Frank said, restraining himself. "Whatever you need." 

 

"Well that was quick," Fisk said, patting one of Matt's legs. "I am hardly ever so uncouth, but...he must be a very good lay. Or an easy one." 

 

Matt swung his leg up around Fisk's neck, locking his head between his thighs. Fisk growled out and swung aimlessly at Matt as Fisk's enormous weight crushed him between it and the cot. "GIVE HIM MORE!" Fisk shouted at Chase.

 

"He has already had too much!" Chase said, making no move to help the towering man. "What you gave him in that one vial must have been enough for three metered doses. You'll explode his heart!"

 

Fisk's gaze shot over to his men, whose guns pointed directly at Chase. Chase reluctantly readied a vial and jammed it into Matt's arm. Matt let go of the Kingpin with a pained cry and clutched his bicep.

 

Frank and Fisk were both out of breath, both locked in each other's sites, as Matt writhed on the bed.

 

Fisk snapped a finger towards the door, ordering his men, "Make sure Mr. Castle is secured and get the hell OUT." 

 

"I need to stay," Chase insisted, as his men followed orders. "I have to monitor his vitals." 

 

"Fine", Fisk tossed a hand angrily over his side. Chase's eyes widened when Fisk turned around. A huge bulge protruded from his pants.  
Being an Omega, too, Chase could sense it. The swirl of scents in the room made the air thick with rut, and judging from the mixture of similar scents shared between the two vigilantes, Frank was Matt's Alpha.

 

When Fisk had come to them months ago for treatment, there was no doubt he was planning to do harm with the new-found power. But guns, threats and money go a long way to compliance and discretion. 

 

"I said I would do it," Frank choked. He was shaking visibly, now. 

 

"I know," Fisk muttered. His attention now seemed firmly locked on Matt. Chase backed away from the edge of the hospital bed and shrank into a corner. He didn't want to be here any more. "So soft," Fisk continued, absentmindedly grating his square fingernails across Matt's stomach, which was warmed by the bright medical light. Matt flattened to the bed, but his lips parted and closed eyes squinted, to the touch. 

 

A vein crawled its way onto Fisk's neck and pulsated. His eyes grew black. Matt's leg swung up, but this time the Kingpin easily caught it, squeezing down on his thigh, blood vessels popping and forming purple bruises wherever he touched. Matt cried out, his head rolling back to the bed, a mixture of emotions both biological and physical playing war inside him. 

 

Fisk planted a leg on either side of his hips, dragging Matt down to the bottom of the mattress so that just his top half was still on it. The restraints made a clacking sound as they slid down on the metal rungs.

 

Frank strained against the solid steel links, a lion roaring at his captor from the end of his leash. 

 

Fisk planted a rough kiss on Matt's stomach, biting his navel. Matt sobbed, his legs spreading willingly to the touch. One tooth popped through the soft flesh, and fresh blood trickled out. Matt's voice broke from pain and pleasure. Fisk lapped it up. 

 

"Do the Omegas produce milk?" Fisk asked a cowering Chase. 

 

Chase answered him in a small voice. "Uhm...Upon, conception, yes. But..." 

 

Fisk grinned darkly and slid a nipple between two fingers, rolling it around, crushing it. It hardened into a pink point and stood upright. "Ahhh," Fisk stated, for Frank's benefit, no less. Matt shuddered, his aching cock pressing against Fisk's stomach, still trapped inside the tight material. "Not carrying yet, then," he observed. "Must be The Punisher isn't the big bad man he thinks he is, if he can't even knock up such a willing participant." 

 

Fisk dug his gigantic, veiny dick out of his pants and presented it to Matt. "Would you like this?," he teased, rubbing the head of it against the small pool of blood on his stomach. 

 

"GONNA KILL YOU," Frank ground out.

 

Matt turned his face away from Frank, a small tear sliding out and onto the starched white sheets. He couldn't stop a deep moan from escaping as Fisk tucked both hands under Matt's ass, pulling off the skin-tight boxers, nudging his throbbing member into Matt's curved erection. 

 

"And what is this?" Fisk's hand disappeared between Matt's ass-cheeks. Matt stiffened like a board. Fisk slid it back out again, raising his fingers to the light, marveling at the slick clear substance between them. 

 

"...Omegas..." Chase cleared his throat. "Omegas make their own..."

 

Fisk chuckled. "OH, that is delightful. You scientists and your dirty little discoveries." 

 

Frank's chains were pulled so tight the links were straining under the weight. As Fisk leaned in, lining himself up with Matt's entrance, the chains finally broke with a thundering snap, as if a tree had buckled under the weight of it. 

 

Chase saw the moment and leaped into action, jumping onto Fisk's back, jamming two vials into either side of his massive neck and emptying them. Fisk bellowed and reached backwards, grabbing Chase by his scrubs and launching him at the cabinet.

 

"Here!" Chase sat up on his hands and threw the keys to the restraints towards Matt, who caught them in an open hand. 

 

Fisk toppled the gurney with a howl and stalked to the other side as he angrily tucked himself back in. Matt unlocked both sides with the key clenched tightly his teeth and scrambled around to the front, meeting Frank and Chase as Fisk suddenly clawed at his throat and gasped for air. 

 

Chase nodded to a vent and gave them a set of keys "Take the truck around back," he ordered. 

 

Frank shoot a look back at the choking Fisk, clenching the chains tight in his grasp. Fisk managed a low growl and charged. Frank grabbed the nearest gurney and launched it at him. It tumbled once before connecting with the body of the giant and bending in two. 

 

Frank entered the vent first, then held a hand down to Matt. "What about you?," Matt asked Chase. 

 

Chase gave a small, sad smile and closed the vent.

 

* * * * * 

{Matt}  

 

Matt reached for him, but Frank grabbed his arm and Matt, too exhausted to fight back, complied. The truck, as luck would have it, had a change of clothes. Scrubs--but clothes no less. Matt slipped into them as Frank started it up and veered off down the winding road. 

 

"They're going to kill him," Matt said.

 

"He chose his path," Frank muttered. He helpfully pulled down on the edges of the scrub top, and Matt jumped a little.  Frank paused. "Sorry." 

 

Matt shook off the feeling of complete dread. "I left my suit back there." 

 

Frank shot a glance at him, incredulous. "We'll worry about that later." 

 

Matt kept an ear out as they headed down the embankment and out of sight. A rumble caught his attention, and he shouted to Frank, "Step on it!" The ground shook as an explosion rocketed up the hill, raining down soot and ash. Matt could hear the fire roaring, engulfing the entire complex, even though by now they were easily a mile away. He looked down as a wave of sadness swept over him. "He didn't want to live without him," he finally spoke. 

 

"And if he could stop a couple a' goons from following us, then all the better." Frank snorted, as a realization came to light. "I guess we don't have to worry about your suit, now." 

 

"Or your guns," added Matt. 

 

Frank's brown furrowed. Matt gave a small laugh and slumped back into the seat, enjoying the feel of the breeze from the open window, even as emergency crews and police sirens passed. His hand fell cross the console and onto Frank's arm. They both paused. Frank's fingers unfurled, interlacing with Matt's, giving it a little squeeze. "Nice work, partner." 

 

"Couldn't have done it without you. Or Chase, probably." 

 

Matt left it there, heading down the highway, towards Hell's Kitchen, his hand cradled in Frank's. Another case solved. 

 

{Frank} 

The running water fogged up the bathroom mirror as he peeled off his shirt and inspected the bruises underneath. A few cuts, maybe a cracked rib or two, nothing major. His face looked like hell, though. It usually did. Hell's Kitchen had a fair share of bad guys and there was nothing Frank liked better than good old hand-to-hand combat. 

 

Okay, maybe there was /one/ thing Frank liked better.

 

He peeled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. Matt's eyes were closed, water running down his body, looking like an angel made entirely of glass.  
His arms went around Matt's lean waste and pulled him close, feeling his breath against his chest, small droplets of water cascading off thier noses as they kissed. Matt's mouth dropped open, hungrily. There was that scent again, and Frank wondered if he would be taunted his whole life by the drive, the urge, the need---God he hoped so. His hands were all over, now, running through Matt's wet hair, down his tight back, to those divots in the small of his back that made Frank shiver. Frank's sore hands cupped Matt's perfectly round ass, and Matt shamelessly groaned. 

 

"Gonna mark you," Frank growled, feeling that electric energy returning, siezing him right to his core. Fisk's scent still lingered on Matt's supple skin, and Frank wanted it gone. He lifted Matt up and planted him against the shower wall, slipping a finger inside Matt's hungry entrance. "You like that baby, huh," Frank murmured in Matt's ear. Matt was standing at full attention, now, and Frank grasped his shaft with one hand and pushed inside him with the other.  
Matt cried against Frank's open mouth. He had been so hot for so long, that within a few thrusts, he was straining against Frank's chest, convulsing as a wave of complete pleasure overtook him. His cum splashed against Frank's stomach, soaking into the dusting of hair around his navel. Frank pulled his fingers out and Matt sobbed softly in disappointment, "Want me in you?," Frank offered. Frank hurried inside of him, feeling his bulb growing uncontrollably. He popped the head of his dick in, savoring Matt's moan. Matt was so wet, he slipped inside with very little resistance. Frank arched into the feeling of Matt's tight hole engulfing him, thrusting upward until his knot rubbed against Matt's hole. 

 

"S'okay," Matt moaned, sucking on Frank's bottom lip. Frank felt as if Matt was perched on the thing. Goddamn.

 

He began an intense rhythm, rubbing himself raw against Matt's tight orifice. He clutched Matt's hips and drove upward, feeling the hilt of his cock stretch Matt's entrance. With one determined thrust, the knot locked inside and Matt's puckered hole swallowed Frank.  
He brought Matt's hands above his head, fingers interlacing as he worked a rhythm, pounding Matt against the tile, the water from the showerhead falling down over them, washing away the sweat. 

 

{End Chapter 9}   
 


	10. {Epilouge}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this epilogue was written for a bit of fun and is not congruent or chronological with the rest of the series. This work was written as a single piece originally. I did not expect it to launch into a series, and thus, this small epilogue does not chronologically fit with the order of the works in the series.

{Nine Months Later...}

 

"Agggh!! GODDAMN!!!" Matt's screams echoed down the hallway of the small apartment. He glared in the direction of Frank, who was guiltily holding his hand. "You are never touching me again, I swear it!!!"

"I'll grab the boiling water!" Foggy alerted, dashing into the kitchen.

"Why boiling water?" Frank asked.

"Haven't you seen the movies?," Foggy shouted back, lifting the teapot off the stove. "People are always grabbing boiling water."

"So...much...PAIN..." Matt could barely manage.

"It's really that bad?" Frank asked, and Matt's eyes flashed fire. "O---kay....."

"I'm here, Matt!," He glared at Frank, and kicked the chair he was sitting in. "Go away, cretin!"

Frank stared. "Is that a teacup?"

Matt moaned in agony as Foggy flipped up the covers at Matt's feet. "Okay, okay..." He rubbed his palms together and reached in.

"Don't just grab it!," Matt barked.

"Well what do you expect me to do?!" Foggy squeaked. "I have to grab it...how else do you get it out?!"

"I don't KNOOOOOOW...." Matt's howling began again.

Frank's eyes widened.

"Okay, okay," Foggy announced. "I think I have the end."

"WHICH END?" Screamed Matt.

"How should I know? Whichever end It went /in/!?"

"Oh god," Matt moaned and Frank, who seemed pretty sure that these two were really just throwing things waaaay out of proportion.

"Just breathe," instructed Foggy. His whole body pulled away as he began to yank. "Oh, Oh GOD that's gross."

Frank shrugged. "Told you."

"It is? Oh, god. Is it okay??? Are--are we sure we shouldn't go to the hospital?" Matt piped up between panting and screaming.

"Little late for that," murmured Frank.

Foggy snapped. "Now look, here, this is all YOUR FAULT. You did this to him, so just shut your face!"

Frank rolled his eyes.

"Is it coming out in one piece?," Matt asked.

"Here it comes!!!"

Foggy wailed.

Matt wailed.

Frank covered his ears.

"IT'S HUGE!" Foggy held it up by one hand.

"I'm gonna pass out," Mumbled Matt.

"That has to be the BIGGEST splinter I have ever seen! Where did you guys say you were playing tennis again?"

"Was bad enough he dragged us there," Grumbled Frank.

Matt grasped the covers, sweaty and out of breath. "It's the BEST tennis court in Hell's Kitchen," he defended. "It's the deck that tried to kill me."

Foggy shook the three-inch piece of wood off into the trash in disgust. "Yuck."

Matt grew up the courage to look at his foot. "Huh. Not too bad."

Frank shook his head. "Didn't sound that way."

Foggy hopped into the bathroom and washed his hands. "Well, glad to be of service, you two."

"Thanks," Matt sighed, jumping off the bed and giving his best friend a one-armed hug.

"Now that the emergency is over, I gotta get back to the office. OH....I almost forgot."

Foggy pawed into his shoulder bag, handing Matt a stack of well-wrapped cards. "Here's those baby announcements. The print shop finished them up this morning."

"Oh, thanks," Matt said, peeling away the brown paper covering. Frank got up to peer over Matt's shoulder. Each card was adorned with a little tri-cut black T-shirt with a skull and a red diaper that said, 'Little Devil'. Under it, were the words,

ERIC MATTHEW CASTLE

Frank beamed. "Awesome." He wrapped his arms around Matt's rounded belly, planting a kiss on his neck.

"Yup," Matt nodded.

 

 

 

 

 


	11. art

[](http://s611.photobucket.com/user/Jamie_Lyn_Gaskin/media/Fratt4_zpsncjvjhbu.jpg.html)


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